Enterprise Vice
by KevinTheEinherjar
Summary: Trip and T'Pol help investigate a new threat to Vulcan. Their investigation leads them to a very un-Vulcan like establishment.


**Enterprise Vice**

Trip and T'Pol help investigate a new threat to Vulcan. Their investigation leads them to a very un-Vulcan like establishment.

Authors Note: This is another story from the group I stumbled upon dating from the spring of 2007. I did not post this earlier because I am somewhat ambivalent about the story. At the time, I decided to move out of my comfort zone and write something that wasn't a scene addition nor was part of my _New World Man_ series. It is unrelated to any of my other work beyond ignoring anything that happens after _Terra Prime_. It takes place some months later with everyone aboard _Enterprise_ feigning ignorance of TnT's relationship.

Please note that I in no way intended people to equate Trip's role here as in any way related to his spy role in the relaunch books. When I first published this, there were those who made that assumption and I want to caution readers not to make it. Earth's DEA is a law enforcement agency and Trip's and T'Pol's roles in this story are more closely aligned to confidential informants than spies.

* * *

The first thing Detective Larry Zito thought about _Enterprise_ was it's sheer size. He'd never been on anything but transports before today and this ship dwarfed any transport he'd ever used.

The second thing Detective Larry Zito thought about _Enterprise_ was that it was absolutely useless for the task at hand. He didn't worry too much about that thought as he really only needed two of its personnel. The DEA would provide the appropriate ships for this particular mission.

He was following the ship's security chief through the dizzying array of corridors on their way to a secure conference room. For a time Larry was certain Mr. Reed was attempting lose him in a maze of corridors and junctions.

Eventually they reached their destination and once the introductions were made, Larry began his briefing. He really didn't need to be introduced, as he'd read every bit of their personnel records that Starfleet allowed him to see.

"Recently an important piece of information has come to light that the Vulcans neglected to share with us. A third Vulcan ship entered the Expanse after the Xindi attacked... Unlike the other two, this ship returned from the Expanse, although it did not return to Vulcan. The Vulcans either don't know or won't tell us why this ship hasn't returned home." Larry took a deep breath. "Starfleet Intelligence believes the Vulcans don't know why."

"Anyway, nearly six months ago, we came across a small group of Vulcans acting strangely... After subduing them we found they had Trellium in their blood stream." Based on the declassified reports he read, he expected a reaction from the officers. They did not disappoint. "Yes, Trellium. Further investigation found an unknown substance hidden in a bookbinding. Analysis confirmed it was based on the same chemicals contained in the Trellium ore found by _Enterprise_. We're not completely sure how, but the Vulcans that returned from the Expanse must have learned how to process it in such a way as to reduce its lethality."

"The scientists call it Trellium H because the modified molecular structure looks like an H. At the Drug Enforcement Administration, we've nicknamed it Doves since it appears to affect Vulcans in the same way... Up to now, the only known cases have been Vulcans in distant outposts. Places where the Vulcans never exerted much control and basically now exert none with the collapse of the High Command. Our concern is this drug may reach Vulcan itself. It is potent and highly addictive... If it were to reach the Vulcan home world, we're concerned it may put their government at risk... Former members of the High Command are trying to regain power and influence and the existing political alliance is fragile. It might not withstand such a threat. What might happen after that is anyone's guess."

"So," Larry continued. "It is vital that we stop this drug before it can reach Vulcan. Our assumption is they have access to a fixed amount of ore. While the quantity is most likely significant, if we can find it, we can destroy it and eliminate the raw material."

Larry stopped and cleared his throat. He had just dumped a great deal of difficult information on them and he was certain they needed a bit of time to digest it.

"What are the Vulcans doing to stop this?" Lieutenant Reed asked.

Larry smiled. "I never said the Vulcans were working with us."

Larry saw Commander T'Pol's expression change for a brief instant.

"That doesn't make any sense," Captain Archer said. "Why wouldn't they work with us if this was that much of a threat?" And then he paused and smiled. "Okay, okay, I know, dumb question."

Both Larry and Commander Tucker picked up on the joke. He wasn't sure if Commander T'Pol did.

"I never said the Vulcans weren't," Larry reminded them. "If and to what extent we are working with the Vulcans on this threat is not something I can discuss." Which was a good thing. It drove Larry nuts the Vulcans would only cooperate to the extent of sharing briefing reports. Neither the DEA nor Starfleet Intelligence were allowed to question anyone. On the other hand, the Ministry of Security demanded detailed information about everything they were doing. _Typical Vulcans!_

"I agree what you have described poses a serious threat to my people," Commander T'Pol spoke. "However I fail to understand why you have shared this information with us."

"I was just about to get there... Through various means, we've been able to trace back to a sort of... information broker in Tortosa..."

"I don't recognize that location," Mr. Reed interrupted.

"It's a small outpost in the Antlit system. It's not much more than a stop off along a popular trade route... Anyway, he seems to exert considerable influence in Tortosa and therefore has his fingers in most things going on in that sector. But we haven't been able to penetrate the operation." Larry sighed and looked down at the table. "I've lost several good people trying to get in," he said in a sad voice. "We couldn't figure out why they failed so quickly. Now I'm pretty sure I know why."

"The information broker runs a popular bar that specializes in the sale of Andorian and Orion women. Once Starfleet Intelligence provided a mission report from your last experience with the Orions, I figured out why." That was still a sore point with Larry. Starfleet knew the dangers posed by Orion women and didn't tell him. They just let him send two teams into a situation where they'd be under the Orions' control within a very short time. "We were stuck until I delved deeper."

"I assume you are here because two of my Commanders were immune to the effects," Archer stated.

Larry just nodded. "I need both of them to find a way in and figure out where the shipments originate. I need people who can get in and won't be compromised in short order."

"Captain, I'm an engineer, not a drug agent," Commander Tucker moaned. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would even ask us to do this," Commander Tucker added.

"Don't worry Trip, I haven't agreed to anything yet," he replied.

"Good," Mr. Tucker grunted and leaned back in his chair.

Larry tilted his head. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Captain, I'm afraid there's been some confusion as to my purpose here."

"How so?" Archer asked.

"Captain, with all due respect, I wasn't sent here to enlist your or your crew's support... I was sent here to help develop a mission plan and train your officers for undercover operations." Larry couldn't read the Vulcan, but both Archer and Tucker were shocked. "I was told Admiral Gardner made this clear to you."

"My orders were to provide assistance and support you," Archer replied.

Larry nodded. "And you will by working with me to develop a mission plan and making sure they're ready to go undercover for the meet and greets."

"I have been trained as a covert operative, Detective Zito," Commander T'Pol said.

"That wasn't in your file, Commander," Larry replied. Maybe this approach wasn't going to be as hopeless as he expected. "I'm not sure why Starfleet wouldn't share that with me."

"It was on Vulcan," she added. "I participated on several covert missions."

Larry chuckled. He forgot she most likely had a long life before arriving on Earth to support the diplomatic delegation. But he doubted the Vulcans ever ran this type of operation. Still, he didn't see the need to argue with her about it. "Good, then you can help me train Commander Tucker... I also need help to create a cover story as to why you're along for the ride. Tortosa is not a place where a Vulcan would set foot. We need something plausible as to why you're there."

"How about mine?" Commander Tucker asked.

"Right now, your cover story is you're a Coridanite with experience smuggling banned technology off the Vulcan home world. Obviously we'll have to adjust that as we develop Commander T'Pol's role but we need to stick within the Coridanite framework."

"Why's that?" Captain Archer asked.

"We need a way to mask his bio-signature since I can't take the chance sending a Human there. Coridanites frequently wear a standard issue mask the hides their facial features when off world. Also smugglers often wear body armor that protects them against small arms fire. We've got some of this and it can be modified to return an arbitrary bio-signature... We can turn Commander Tucker into a Coridanite smuggler with very little effort."

Captain Archer's face seemed frozen in a scowl. Larry wondered if Archer would ignore orders or press the issue and waste valuable time. Mr. Tucker appeared even less receptive, if that were possible. He simply glared at Larry. Out of habit Larry scratched his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair.

The only positive outcome to this point was the Vulcan didn't ridicule his plan and tell him it was unsound and had no hope of success. As he started to think this effort was a waste of time, she shifted slightly and moved her hands to the table in front of her.

"Captain, Detective, I believe I have a cover story that would justify my presence," Commander T'Pol spoke.

Larry couldn't help but smile. The only one he assumed who'd give him trouble was actually the only one helping him.

"I believe Doctor Phlox retained the Orion ID chi..."

"No! No! No..." Commander Tucker interrupted her and the two faced off. Larry had no idea where she was headed but apparently Mr. Tucker figured it out and he was not pleased. His face started to become pink.

"Trip," she said softly. Larry was a bit startled by her use of Commander Tucker's nickname. That was not very Vulcan from what he knew. But she had been aboard _Enterprise_ for five years, so possibly she had made the adjustment.

"No!" Came the standard response. He wondered if the Commander believed simply saying no repeatedly would somehow change his superior officer's mind. He couldn't imagine any Human swaying a Vulcan. Especially not with such a childish argument. At any moment he expected Commander Tucker to stomp his feet and throw a tantrum.

"Trip, let her finish," Archer growled. "I want to hear where she's going."

"Captain..."

"Enough! Trip let her finish!" Tucker just slumped back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. His neck was red and Larry guessed Mr. Tucker was pissed.

"As I was saying, I believe Doctor Phlox retained the Orion ID chips and controllers he extracted... Assuming he retained the information on which devices were removed from whom, the doctor could implant the ID chip again and I could pose as Commander Tucker's servant." Larry caught Captain Archer wince at the suggestion as soon as she made it. "That would explain why a Vulcan would be brought to an establishment such as the one in question." Larry was flabbergasted when he realized what the Vulcan had just told him. Assuming he wasn't delusional, at some point Commander T'Pol must have been processed into an Orion slave market. That was most definitely not in her service record and he not only wondered how she was rescued but if the Vulcans even knew.

He seriously doubted they knew. Larry smiled to himself thinking if they did know, they'd want Archer's head on a platter.

Archer's face clearly showed he wasn't enthused about this idea. Tucker's face was nothing more than a deep frown. He'd already made his opinion quite clear.

"Commander, I believe you comprehend the threat facing my people," T'Pol must have felt she could change Tucker's mind. "We need a legitimate reason why I would be there with you... Vulcans are not smugglers."

Larry wasn't sure what to do. He needed both of them for the mission but if Tucker was angry about Commander T'Pol's disguise, he might do something stupid that would endanger their lives. He needed someone who was cool under pressure. Although Mr. Tucker's service record seemed to imply that was the case, the person sitting before him did little to build his confidence.

"Trip, I don't like the idea any more than you do," Archer said gently to his friend. "But T'Pol's got a point... This place doesn't sound anything like somewhere I would expect to find a Vulcan. At least this gives the plan a chance. We can work out the details as we go."

It didn't seem to work. Commander Tucker's expression didn't change a fraction.

"Captain, may I be dismissed? I need to return to main engineering," Tucker said coldly.

Larry frowned. His key player wasn't even willing to stay in the briefing. He did see Archer relax somewhat. He probably had enough experience with Commander Tucker and understood his reaction. Assuming that were the case, Larry had a pretty good idea they'd just hit a dead end.

"Sure Trip, you're dismissed," Archer said in what sounded like a dejected tone.

Now it was Larry's turn to be angry. Tucker just got up and left. He focused his scowl on Archer but held his tongue so he didn't say something dumb and blow this whole thing apart. Despite orders, Larry knew Archer was experienced enough he could make sure this whole operation flopped over without damaging his career too much. Archer was still a hero that few were willing to test.

"I will speak with Commander Tucker," T'Pol said.

Archer shook his head. "No, I'll talk to him... You work out the details with Detective Zito and I'll head down to engineering." Archer stood up and placed both hands on the table. "Detective, work out the details with Commander T'Pol... I'll ensure you have the team's full support."

"Thank you Captain," Larry answered.

"Detective, we will need to detail why a technology smuggler would own a Vulcan servant," T'Pol said with no hint of emotion in her voice.

Larry agreed. He felt his headache slowly recede while he and the Commander worked out the details of their mission profile. Archer must have been successful as a much more reserved Commander Tucker returned nearly two hours later. Although he didn't say much beyond a quiet "I'm sorry" to Commander T'Pol upon returning, at least he was an attentive listener while Larry and T'Pol developed their plan.

They decided that Commander Tucker would be a Coridanite technology smuggler who decided to expand into drugs and other banned chemicals after acquiring a Vulcan chemist from the Orions. Their first task would be to arrange the true meet buy bribing the information broker on Tortosa. Once that was accomplished, they would meet with the supplier to arrange pickup for some quantity of the drug. At that point, the two would no longer play a role and they would return to their careers aboard _Enterprise_. The DEA and the Vulcans would take over from there.

* * *

Ehrehin rubbed his hands along over his tired eyes. Converting the raw Trellium ore into the refined drug without accidentally making a potent Vulcan neurotoxin was exacting work. His team went through 56 of the original 92 Vulcans before finally perfecting its chemical signature. They burned through most of the rest perfecting the refining process. That still didn't make it any easier. Trellium was an enormously difficult substance to work with. Apply too much heat and pressure and it suddenly became explosive. Fail to combine it with the precise amount of carbonyl and the Vulcan is dead within a matter of days.

Terix had been leaning hard on him to increase production. The Imperial Guard needed far more of the drug to put their plan into action. Ehrehin twisted his neck and stretched the muscles that had grown tight peering into the microscope. For most of his life, he believed Vulcans were nothing more than stories parents told their children to frighten them. They sounded so much like all of the other threats the Empire faced–even if real, they could be nothing more than gross exaggerations. Terix convinced him they not only were real, but also posed a serious threat that had to be stopped.

He readily signed on to their plan to create a psychotropic drug designed to build paranoia and undermine their society so as to weaken it until the Imperial Guard was strong enough to attack.

* * *

T'Pol ensured sickbay was empty, save the doctor, before entering. He greeted her with his usual pleasant hello. "I require your assistance doctor," she said flatly. Oddly, the doctor did not reply and simply looked at her.

"I need you to reinsert the Orion ID tag and reattach the controller you removed from me," T'Pol said. She noticed her voice cracked and hoped the doctor was not aware of her rising distress.

"You what!" the doctor responded almost immediately flailing arm around and making an odd clucking sound. "I suppose next you'll be asking me to return you to an Orion Interceptor? What are you thinking T'Pol?"

T'Pol looked down at the floor and waited for his rant to end.

"I am sorry T'Pol," he said gently. "I should not have said those things... I am ashamed of myself... Are you certain this is a good idea?"

T'Pol paused to consider. "No, but I cannot think of a better option." She was not sure how much to share with the doctor. He had been a trusted confidant and probably understood the deleterious affects of Trellium on Vulcans better than any save herself and Trip. She decided he had to know. "Someone has learned how to acquire and refine Trellium into a potent drug and has begun selling it to Vulcans in the outlying colonies." Doctor Phlox did not need to know it was Vulcans themselves who had returned from the Expanse.

She could tell the doctor was stunned and took a step back.

"We have a chance to stop this before it can reach my home world and become more widespread... But it requires a small team to go undercover into... one of the quadrant's more disreputable areas."

T'Pol watched as the doctor slowly digested her revelation. She began to see a flash of comprehension come over his face. "You're not returning..."

"No, of course not," T'Pol cut him off. "But the environment is still... not one a Vulcan would ever willingly enter... Therefore some justification for my presence will be required." She took a deep breath. "I will go undercover as a Vulcan chemist serving a drug smuggler." She could not bring herself to use the word slave even though that would be her role.

Phlox walked over to the other side of the room and pulled something from a drawer and returned to her side.

"This will only take a moment Commander," Phlox said gently as he rubbed the topical anesthetic into her neck. He pushed her head in the other direction as she felt him press something against her neck. Immediately the image of the huge Orion holding her down as she howled in pain while the controller was forcibly attached to her neck. Her Human companions passed out from the pain but her greater discipline ensured she remained conscious during the horrendous ordeal. It was some time before the ringing in her left ear dissipated.

Almost as soon as he started, the doctor completed his task. He stepped back and directed her to the monitor. Without even thinking, T'Pol reached toward the controller. She ran her hand over its surface.

Phlox cleared his throat and T'Pol realized he was trying to return her attention to the monitor. "As you can see, the scan returns the ID number originally assigned. The controller appears active... Of course it is not connected to your neurosystem, so it is basically inert."

T'Pol closed her eyes and clenched her jaw as the outpouring of emotions washed over her. She repeated her breathing exercises but it was not enough to suppress the memories of the intense fear she experienced during that time. She kept repeating to herself _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few_. If Trellium H were to enter mainstream production and reach Vulcan, her world would be grave in danger.

She had to stop it regardless of the personal cost.

When she opened her eyes, Phlox was observing her with some concern. Denobulans were even more expressive than Humans and his worry was palpable. "Doctor, it is imperative..."

Phlox's hand rose and he cut her off. "I understand T'Pol... Probably as well as any other aboard this ship could... I know full well the danger Trellium poses to your people." He paused for a moment. "That, however, only tempers but does little to lessen my concern for you."

T'Pol breathed out a sigh and looked down at the floor. "I will be alright doctor. I have extensive training in covert operations." She did not sound very convincing.

She stood up. "Thank you doctor," she said while exiting sickbay. She focused on her breathing exercises on the way back to her quarters. She had only a short time to get changed as right now Trip was getting fitted for the body armor and facemask that would complete his disguise. They planned to leave as soon as they were ready.

Her disguise would not provide anywhere near as much... protection... as his.

T'Pol opened the drawer and looked over the attire she acquired for the mission. The ship's quartermaster stocked nothing like she required and everything had been "special ordered" to suit her plan. Although she put up a confident facade, she was not quite as sure of herself as she led others to believe. It had been a long time since she participated in any covert operations. Even then she never became involved in a mission perilous as this one. On top of that she had been in more control of her emotions while in the High Command's rigid support structure.

She picked up the clothing and moved to the bathroom. The mirror would help ensure she was properly clothed before leaving her quarters. Her uniform for this mission would be more complicated than standard Starfleet issue. It would need to be correctly applied.

Her first step was to unzip the front of her uniform and slide it down her legs. She stepped out of it once her boots were off. Almost immediately she pulled her support top over her head. The clothing she chose to wear for this mission would not permit its use. She took in her reflection in the mirror, exhaled and bent to step out of her standard issue under shorts. They would not be appropriate either.

T'Pol again turned to the mirror. She allowed herself a brief moment of vanity as she admired her body. There was another significant difference between her time with the Ministry of Security and now. For decades she had been frequently reminded she was too short, too thin, too frail, too emotional to be a good Vulcan. Her mother made it clear she would have a difficult time being a proper Vulcan wife and mother. In summary, T'Pol was... inadequate.

That view began to change with her postings off world away from the pressures of Vulcan's strict society. She was successful in her career. Her self-esteem improved in earnest with her assignment to _Enterprise_. Her Human crewmates came to accept her as a valuable member of the crew in short order. They did not judge her inadequate–in fact, quite the contrary. Trip was able to finally turn her self-assessment in a... more positive direction. Even after confessing her... many failures... in the Expanse, Trip fully accepted her, fully supported her. Over the past five years, he never truly abandoned her no matter how hard she pushed him away.

He loved her, unconditionally.

And the things he did to... her body... made it clear she was neither too short, nor too thin, nor too frail. Her nipples puckered at the thought of his tongue gently flicking the very tips of her ears. She reminded herself that pride was one of the more dangerous emotions. It needed to be controlled, lest it overwhelm her, just as much as any other. In addition, she had to resume her preparation. Trip should arrive shortly and they would need to board a shuttle pod to rendezvous with their transport.

Putting aside propriety for another moment longer she decided the collar would be the first of her attire. She decided continuing to indulge her own vanity for a brief instance more would not do significant harm. She lifted its stiff, plain black form off the counter top and wrapped it around her neck. The sensation as she inhaled was odd. The collar was snug and pressed against her throat as she took in air. She checked its placement by tilting her head side to side. The collar would be a vital component for their data gathering. Its passive sensors would record information from all across the electromagnetic spectrum. It should be able to detect most hidden force shields or weapons installations. It even recorded sound waves outside of those she could hear on her own.

Normally these sensors would be placed in a handheld device or strapped to a belt. That would pose a problem for a pair of unknown people entering a new location. Either approach would draw unwanted attention and put their lives in jeopardy if the scanners' purpose was discovered. They would have to be hidden. She decided hiding them in a collar around her neck would raise fewer questions. One basic precept of her Vulcan training was hiding something in plain sight often proved the most successful strategy.

Especially combined with her intent of drawing attention... elsewhere.

She bent over and lifted the tiny panty but hesitated before putting it on. She could not believe Human women wore something like this but her investigation revealed it was the only thing that would not cause visible lines in her clothing. That seemed vital with the pants she selected. The undergarment literally was nothing more than a small patch of cloth and two strands of thick string. Once she stepped through the leg and pulled them up, she questioned whether or not to even wear them. They were quite uncomfortable. She shifted around trying to determine if she put it on correctly.

Just then her chime rang and she answered it. "It's me," she heard Trip say, his voice muffled by the facemask.

"Come in," she replied.

She heard her door open and close. "I will be out in a moment." She satisfied herself she had, in fact, put the tiny panty on correctly and that it was simply uncomfortable by design.

She looked down at the pants again and imagined how tight they would be. In its natural state the fabric for her legs was about as big around as her forearm. She then decided going without the panty would be more uncomfortable than wearing it. She slipped her legs through the pants and felt the material conform to her thighs and hips like a second skin. This seemed like a better plan when she worked it out earlier. Now she was not as sure about her choice of attire. She would be doing considerable walking in these clothes and they would be constantly rubbing against her skin.

Finally she pulled up the stretchy material of halter-top and fastened it under the collar. It conformed perfectly to the various curves presented by her chest. The peach colored fabric almost seemed to shimmer as she moved around causing the light to strike her from different directions. The top also provided a fascinating color contrast to her bare arms and back. She assumed few would be paying attention to the collar and its passive sensor array. It would effectively be hidden in plain sight.

However the image that confronted her in the mirror was a bit extreme for her Vulcan sensibilities. Her arms and back are completely exposed and the material covering the remainder of her body left nothing to the imagination. The material almost appeared painted onto her body. The controller was still visible as it protruded out the side of the collar and she focused on the role she would be playing. If the success of this mission meant preventing highly refined Trellium from reaching her people, she could suppress the embarrassment caused by her attire. She reminded herself how critical their disguises would be to keeping her and Trip alive.

She decided it was time for the first test, opened the door and stepped into the main living area. The scene was somewhat surreal as the person sitting in front of her appeared for all intents and purposes to be a Coridanite wearing a standard face shield and over cloak. Because Trip sat silently, his scent was the only thing that betrayed his presence. Although she could not see his reaction due to the facemask, she could detect the subtle change in his scent revealing his growing arousal.

She had become keenly aware of that change.

She tested her clothing choice by walking past him and looking back over her shoulder. Although she could not judge the face behind the mask, she assumed his eyes were focused on her back based on the angle of his head. If all went according to plan, any attention she garnered would be similarly focused away from the scanners.

As a final test she picked up a scanner and ran it over both of them. The scanner reported his bio-sign as Coridanite. No anomalies registered in the scan to indicate something was amiss. It also reported her ID tag and active controller. Regardless of how close she held it, the scanner was unable to reveal the passive monitoring devices around her neck.

She twisted herself around the room watching as the facemask moved and allowed him to completely take in her disguise. Each movement was designed to bring her a bit closer to his side. She decided to momentarily bask in the scent of his increased arousal. If he had not been in the complicated body armor, their trip to the shuttle pod would most likely have been delayed for some time.

"Are you sure the controller cannot be activated? You're not in any danger are you?" He asked as she leaned next to him.

She shook her head. "It is not connected to my nervous system. I am no danger."

Trip snorted and exhaled. "Okay."

She could tell he was not confident about this plan. Or more specifically he seemed concerned whether he could accomplish it. "Trip, we can do this," she said calmly as she sat next to him. She placed a hand on top of his. "Just remember what Detective Zito and I told you and remember I will be right there... Our mission is vital... You know how much of a threat this drug poses to Vulcan."

She felt his mood slightly improve. "Our... unique... situation makes you the only Human who can participate in this mission. No other Human male would stand a chance in the presence of a number of Orion females." She hoped convincing him he was the only person qualified for this mission would bolster his confidence.

If nothing else, it at least distracted her away from her own self-doubt.

* * *

Terix paced outside the Admiral's office until summoned inside. He approached the desk where the revered Admiral sat studying a report and stood at attention waiting for acknowledgement.

"Yes?" the Admiral asked.

"Ormiin has found a smuggler who should be able to deliver the cargo to the Vulcan home world," Terix informed him. "He is meeting with the Coridanite three days from now. If everything checks out, Ormiin will arrange the first shipment to arrive on Vulcan 20 days from now."

"A Coridanite? Can we trust him?" Valdore said as he straightened in his chair.

"Ormiin believes so. He says the Coridanite already smuggles banned substances off the Vulcan home world. He should be able to get the cargo into Vulcan controlled space with little effort."

The Admiral shook his head. "Get Ehrehin to step up production! We need more of the drug in order to make this plan a success."

Terix bowed. "As you wish Admiral Valdore."

"Dismissed," the Admiral said and Terix turned on his heels and left the chamber. Once again, he now had to lean on Ehrehin to step up production. He was tired of excuses and the eleven new Vulcans needed to be put to good use making sure their production facilities were functioning properly. Their plan would fail if all they produced were a few hundred kilograms of Vulcan neurotoxin.

* * *

T'Pol paused slightly as they approached the entrance to what passed, according to their intelligence, as a combination bar and slave market. She lost her focus for a moment as Trip grumbled, yet again, about the heat and the body armor under his cloak. He had been complaining almost incessantly about how uncomfortable the face shield and body armor was since they transported down. She had long since given up reminding him it was necessary to mask his bio-sign and ensure he appeared a Coridan to any external sensors.

She snorted briefly as she suppressed the urge to inform him she was entering a dangerous situation not only unarmed but also barely clothed. She was constantly reminded of this fact as he absent-mindedly rubbed his hand along the small of her back while they walked the street to their destination. His facemask limited his vision and the darkness only compounded his problem so she needed to guide him. While she normally would appreciate the constant physical contact, it only served to remind her just how... unprotected... she was. Of course resorting to such petty bickering at this stage would provide no benefit to their situation.

Although T'Pol had been trained in covert operations and information gathering while a member of the Vulcan Ministry of Security, no one in the Ministry would have ever approved an operation of this nature. They had no backup and the more senior team member, her, could not even be armed due to the nature of her disguise. She felt her heart rate increase as she reached across to open the door. Trip moved his hand higher and rested the flat of his hand against her back. She was certain Trip's hand was as more a reaction to his concern over their situation than the need for her steady guidance through the dark.

She never got so far in front of him that he could not easily see her. They were rarely separated by more than a few centimeters distance.

As soon as the door opened, her senses were assaulted by the various sounds and smells. A loud, thumping bass rhythm rocked through the main floor. T'Pol assumed it was meant to give the Orion females dancing on stage something to synchronize their movements to. She briefly wondered if they were meant only for entertainment or if this was a normal prelude to the auction process. Ultimately she decided it was probably a little of both.

The smells were dank and disgusting. The air was stale and smelled of various odors whose origins she decided were better left discovered. She never thought about the obvious need for a nasal inhibitor in such an environment. She had become accustomed to the smells aboard _Enterprise_ and not using one meant she could better experience Trip's pleasing scent. Until a few moments ago that price had been a small one to pay. Fully experiencing Trip's scent on a regular basis was worth the occasional discomfort caused by the Captain's pet and Lieutenant Hess' inability to grasp the concept of subtlety when applying cologne. The current environment was far worse than Captain Archer's canine–probably even worse than if she were locked in a small room with both Lieutenant Hess and Captain Archer's canine.

It only took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the distorted and rapidly flashing lights and she began to survey the main area looking for their contact. She memorized his picture and expected he would be easy to pick out in the crowd. Since he was the main proprietor and expecting their arrival, she felt safe in assuming his presence would be conspicuous. There would be no logic in hiding himself when this appointment had been negotiated for them to conduct business.

Somehow Trip picked out their contact before she could and pointed over her shoulder to a circular table in the back corner on another level. It only took a moment to determine the proper path down to the main level, across to the other side and then up a single flight of stairs. T'Pol picked her way through the crowd leading Trip even though it was clear his vision in this bar was better than it had been outside.

Trip's hand moved to her upper hip and caressed it through the fabric in time with the pulsing rhythm.

As they passed through the various bodies milling about, T'Pol considered herself fortunate no one paid much head to either her or Trip. They seemed far too focused on watching the repulsive display of the Orion females on stage, talking amongst themselves or trying to catch the attention of the Andorian females milling about. With her simple flat-soled shoes she was not tall enough to catch more than an occasional blue head with white hair and antennae. Although their information indicated this market specialized in the sale of both Andorian and Orion females, it appeared their information might be in error as only the Orions were on display.

Eventually they made their way across the room and Trip took a seat against the back wall. _It was good he remembered that bit of advice._ She continued to stand by his side. A brief shiver ran down her spine and his hand gently glided down her bare back, over her buttocks and across her inner thigh before resting on his own knee. Trip had become so used to touching her, she doubted he even was conscious of his caress.

She made sure to slowly move her upper body, and therefore her neck, in a slow sweeping motion across the room. She was unsure how much information the collar could actually gather in this environment. The sounds and lighting were intense and random and could potentially confuse the passive scanner. Regardless, it appeared the establishment had only minimal defenses and the few visible security forces appeared more intent on dispatching any unruly patrons than defending against a trained assault force. Most likely that meant it was under the protection of whatever local government existed. Any Starfleet assault force would therefore need to operate under that assumption and take it into consideration.

"A Vulcan female. Very rare. Very rare indeed," came their host's statement. She briefly stopped her survey to focus on the introductory conversation.

"Yeah, I've never seen another," came Trip's reply.

"What did she set you back?"

"Not a thing," Trip laughed and brushed his hand along the back of her thigh. "I found her."

Their host started laughing. "I though you were a drug smuggler. I am always looking for... acquirers... too." T'Pol reached back into her training to maintain her composure. Trip was falling into his role a little too comfortably for her taste. He never displayed any competence in security matters up to this point and she wondered if she misjudged him. It was also possible all Humans were capable of such duplicitous behavior. She would have to discuss the issue with him after they returned safely to _Enterprise_.

She saw Trip shake his head. "She was already caught when I found her." Trip turned to look into her face. "I found her writhing on the ground with her controller activated. I assumed she attempted an escape, maybe after the transaction, since I cannot imagine anyone foolish enough to simply discard her. I don't know how she made it as far as she did before succumbing to its effects. I was able to turn it off and claim her for my own... Possession is law."

T'Pol felt her skin pimple at Trip's very effective improvisation. It was not something she had prepared him for. In fact, she had never heard that three-word phrase prior to this instant. She heard their host laugh and smack the table with his hand. "The only Orion business principle!" he host replied.

Trip returned his attention to their contact. "I figured I'd trade her for a new chemist at my first chance. Imagine my luck finding out she was a Science Officer. She turned out to be quite the find."

Her body stiffened as their host moved his arm and gestured to someone. She relaxed slightly as a single Andorian head turned in their direction before moving toward the stairs leading to the small landing holding their table. Moments later a tall Andorian female emerged from the mass of people appearing to wear nothing but a pair of thigh high boots and a very brief, but strategically placed apron around her waist began climbing the stairs toward them.

T'Pol's eyes refused to leave the woman and as she moved to the Andorian's face, she found she had been caught staring. The smirk on the woman's face challenged T'Pol as if daring her to openly stare at the almost completely exposed blue-skinned alien. Embarrassed by her own behavior, T'Pol quickly looked away to Trip who continued to focus on his conversation with the alien seated across from him.

The Andorian entered T'Pol's peripheral vision and she watched the woman slink over to the proprietor and glide into his lap. She asked him what he would like and he responded with a name T'Pol did not recognize. The woman then leaned toward the table, turned her attention to Trip and asked what he would be having. Her request was almost phrased as a seductive purr meant to entice.

She observed Trip kept true to his training and slammed his palm on the table and said he was here for business and not entertainment. His act was convincing–once again a little too convincing for her.

Their contact and his Andorian waitress seemed amused by the response and started laughing. "You Coridanites," he laughed. "You need to be more like your Orion partners. They know how to conduct business." After a few moments both stopped laughing and the Andorian stood up and walked off with what was most likely a drink order. A brief backward glance by T'Pol confirmed her earlier assumption that the Andorian wore nothing but the boots and small apron.

When T'Pol returned her attention back to the table, she noticed their contact's focus was completely centered on the retreating woman. Something about his look convinced her the admiration was genuine.

T'Pol considered Trip's own actions since they entered the bar. She was now certain their bond must work the same way for Trip as it would for a Vulcan male. Not only had he maintained his focus on their mission despite the multiple Orion females dancing on stage with their pheromones no doubt permeating the stagnant air, but a statuesque, practically naked Andorian female sat just a meter away and he appeared not to even notice her.

On the other hand, yesterday he became immediately aroused when she exited the bathroom wearing more clothing than probably all of the Andorian and Orion females on display here wore combined. That thought brought a warm flush up her neck and she briefly shook her head to focus her attention.

Their contact asked Trip if he brought payment and T'Pol assumed that meant he had arranged the meet while she was distracted. Trip reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bottle. He handed the jar of cinnamon across to the alien. She watched as the alien opened up the small container and took a tentative whiff to verify the previously arranged payment for the services rendered.

He put a small amount on his tongue and immediately made a face and grunted. "That's disgusting," he growled. He shook his head violently and made unrecognizable noises with his mouth.

T'Pol froze. Zito's information that 50 grams of cinnamon would be precisely what the alien wanted had been incorrect. Trip straightened up in shock and turned toward her. Trip offered to procure a different spice and demanded she tell him what they had in stock.

Before she could answer the alien cut him off. "No, this is perfect. I know exactly someone who will pay for this. He enjoys this disgusting stuff." The alien made a few more noises and T'Pol began to suspect their contact was exaggerating a bit.

That did not stop T'Pol from breathing a slight sigh of relief.

At that moment the Andorian female returned with a tall metallic stein. After placing it on the table, their contact picked it up and took a long draw while the Andorian returned to his lap. He set the mug down hard and had a smile on his face with a drink in one hand and a practically naked woman in the other.

Trip started to stand up when the alien asked, "what do you think of Kholas here?" She noticed the woman straighten up as if to make a better presentation to Trip. T'Pol swallowed hard when she realized what their contact might be offering.

"I don't need another woman whose best interest is my untimely demise," Trip answered with a chuckle as he placed his hand along T'Pol's back again.

The Andorian female laughed.

"I am not offering her for sale," the alien replied with a grin. "I seriously doubt you could afford her," he added with a chuckle. T'Pol noticed the Andorian smiled and leaned back against the man. "I am merely saying... she is for rent." Both of them started laughing and T'Pol felt her stomach tense up. She was not sure if Trip's refusal would be taken as an insult by their contact–assuming Trip refused. He had slipped too quickly into his new covert role and she was unsure how far he would press it.

"I'm not interested," came Trip's terse reply. T'Pol felt the tension fade away. At least until both their contact and the Andorian focused their attention on her. Uncontrollably, she took a tiny step back as if to escape the stares.

The Andorian scowled at her and made a face. T'Pol was not sure what was going through the Andorian's mind, but whatever it was, she was pretty sure it was not pleasant.

Trip stood up and finally said, "Will that be all?" She was startled at the force he could muster in such a tense situation.

The Andorian female stood up and left them. "If you will not stay to enjoy yourself, then yes. I will contact your ship in one hour and give you the coordinates for the meet," said the alien.

Trip stood and bowed then T'Pol began to lead him out the door. Just as before, the crowd paid little head to them as they left. One Orion female stood center stage as various people waived their arms in the air. The rapidly changing numbers behind the woman's head meant the bidding had begun.

A shudder traveled down her spine as she recalled being displayed in a similar situation.

Just as they were about to leave, one of the Andorian females swiveled on her boots into their path. T'Pol immediately recognized her as Kholas and she backed farther into Trip as the tall woman practically pushed her breasts in T'Pol's face as she passed by. T'Pol felt Trip stop and heard the Andorian whisper in his ear, "I'll be around all night if you change your mind. You know how to find me... I'm certain you'll find the price worth it." The Andorian paused for a moment and T'Pol felt a hand slide between her and Trip just before Trip gasped. "She can even watch if you like, although I won't degrade myself to touch your Vulcan." The last word almost came out as a hiss.

Before T'Pol could respond, she felt Trip pushing her forward and like that, they were off again. T'Pol fought to contain her jealousy and knew an outburst at this time would blow their cover. She had just about regained her control as they exited the building leaving the disgusting smells and deafening sounds behind.

Her distraction proved to be a crucial mistake. Within minutes after exiting the establishment she heard Trip grunt and stumble into her just as someone grabbed her arm and forced a hypospray to her neck. She heard Trip groan as she felt herself fall before she could even make out their attackers. Everything went black in an instant.

* * *

Terix frantically paced back and forth across the bridge thinking what he could do. The Coridanite had been captured after Ormiin set up the meet. Even if the Coridanite didn't give up any information about their operation, his Vulcan chemist most likely would. Ormiin said she had an Orion ID and was not voluntarily working for the Coridanite.

The real problem for Terix was that he didn't know who took them. It could even have been the Vulcans. Within a short while after his forces abducted their second Vulcan crew, various inquiries about any Vulcans for sale passed through the trafficking lanes. He could not be sure if the Vulcans were looking to rescue their crew or if others heard the rumor of the pirated Vulcan science vessel and looked to acquire some choice plunder.

Ehrehin thought it was possible the Tal Shiar were plotting to foil the Imperial Guard's plan. They stopped even making a pretense of hiding their desire to control everything. Terix disputed their involvement because the Tal Shiar's reach did not extended beyond their home system. The Tal Shiar did not possess the resources to work behind the scenes at such a distance without the Imperial Guard knowing.

Terix stopped, steeled himself and made a decision. They would abandon their current lab and move production to new facilities elsewhere. He would also have to eliminate any variables outside his control. Tortosa would be liquidated. That was unfortunate. He had come to appreciate Ormiin's... approach to life.

"Get me Admiral Valdore," Terix commanded his communications officer. "Patch it to my private office." This was not a discussion he looked forward to. The Admiral did not tolerate mistakes.

* * *

Trip slowly opened his eyes. The bright glare of the lights hurt, but not as bad as the pain wracking his body. His head throbbed and he felt every heartbeat press harder against his head. Breathing was difficult with his chest wrapped and he felt a deep pain in his left side.

There was nothing he could do but groan. He was too weak to even move.

He assumed he was hallucinating when Doctor Cesario stepped into his field of view. "Welcome back Mr. Tucker," the doctor said quietly.

"What the hell?" Trip croaked before wincing. He couldn't figure out why he was aboard _Columbia_.

"Be careful Commander... You're still seriously injured." The doctor frowned as he ran the medical scanner over Trip's torso before moving out of his field of view. When he returned, the doctor moved a hypospray to his neck. "This is for the pain," he said just before Trip felt the injection enter his body.

"Why am I on _Columbia_?" Trip whispered. It was the only way to speak without causing too much pain. "And where's T'Pol?" He added as his panic started to rise.

The doctor reviewed a display behind Trip's head before answering. "You were gravely injured Commander... We were the closest ship that could provide medical assistance. Beyond that you'll have to speak with Commander T'Pol privately... I simply don't know."

"Where is she? Can I talk to her?"

"She is asleep. It's the middle of the night and I want you to rest... You can speak to her in the morning. I am not going to wake her."

"There is no need to Doctor, I am awake," Trip heard T'Pol but could not yet see her. She was too far to his left.

He heard T'Pol move toward him and caught sight of her in a _Columbia_-issued uniform out the corner of his eye. "May Commander Tucker and I speak in private to answer his questions?"

"I can give you a few minutes... But then I need to give him another sedative. His body needs lots of rest at this point."

"Very well, doctor," T'Pol replied. Trip heard the doctor move away and when he could not longer hear footsteps he tentatively reached his left hand out to T'Pol. She returned the gesture and soon the fingers of their left hands were intertwined.

At first T'Pol's hand trembled but soon steadied itself as he gently caressed the soft skin of her wrist, just below her palm. He became concerned when she said nothing but simply focused on his eyes with an intensity that seemed to burn through him.

"Was it that bad?" he finally asked, breaking their silence.

"The knife wound was nearly fatal... It nicked your heart."

"Who?" He queried. Trip noticed her left eyebrow twitched and the muscles in her forehead spasmed.

She moved her head over her left shoulder. Trip assumed she intended to verify the doctor was still out of earshot.

"Vulcans," she said. He grunted but before he could say anything she pressed one finger to his lips. "Let me explain." Trip nodded.

"They heard a Coridanite with a Vulcan slave was there to set up a meet. Their task is to search out and free any Vulcans captured by pirates... It appears our disguises were convincing."

"But..." Again T'Pol pressed her finger to his lips.

"The knife wound would have been fatal to a Coridanite. When you began to bleed they recognized their mistake and removed the mask... They took us aboard their ship and put you in stasis... They were not prepared to provide medical assistant for a Human. That's when _Columbia_ was called to pick us up."

With Trip's head clouded by painkillers he struggled to comprehend what T'Pol was telling him. "_Enterprise_?"

Fortunately T'Pol recognized his ill formed question. "Captain Archer was called away. By the time my people contacted Starfleet, _Columbia_ was just over three days away at maximum Warp... It was your best chance at survival. You were kept in stasis until the rendezvous yesterday afternoon."

Trip blinked his eyes a couple times as he stared up at the ceiling. It was getting tough to think through the fog. He felt T'Pol move her right hand to the side of his face and he leaned into it. He closed his eyes and focused on her touch.

In a moment T'Pol moved her hand away from his face and he felt her slowly extract her hand from his. Shortly he heard footsteps and assumed the doctor was returning.

"It's time to go back to sleep," the doctor said and pressed the hypospray into his neck. Trip nodded and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Trip nearly fainted when the doctor helped him sit up. "The synthetic blood isn't as good at carrying oxygen as real blood, Commander. You'll need to be careful for a week or two until your body is able to produce the real thing."

The doctor helped him out of the surgical gown and into a uniform. "I want you to walk the length of this deck and return here. I need to check how well your body is able to oxygenate your blood... The Captain says she'll escort you so you don't hurt yourself."

Trip looked up to see Captain Hernandez standing just inside the entrance to sickbay. Her arms were folded across her chest and she shot him that same half-grin/half-smirk she did when he arrived the first time. "Are you ready to go Commander?" she asked.

"Ready when you are," Trip replied as he shuffled out of sickbay. They walked together in silence for a few minutes.

"So are you going to tell me why you and T'Pol showed up in a Klingon scout ship piloted by Vulcans?"

The question caught Trip by surprised and he stumbled a little.

The Captain moved to steady him. "Careful Commander, I didn't mean to upset you... I just wasn't exactly thrilled about pushing so hard to meet up with an unknown Klingon ship."

Trip twisted his mouth to the side. He wasn't sure how much to say. He wasn't completely sure of the answer himself. He decided to brush her off. "Captain, if T'Pol hasn't shared that information with you, I probably shouldn't either... At least not without talking to her about it."

He heard the Captain snort and chuckle. "Fair enough Commander."

Trip focused on his feet as he shuffled along. His legs were wobbly enough it was a challenge walking.

"Speak of the devil," Captain Hernandez said as Trip heard someone approach. He looked up and saw T'Pol walking toward them. He shot her a smile and T'Pol returned his glance until her eyes flittered away.

"Captain, Commander," T'Pol said as she stopped about a meter in front of them before folding her arms behind her back.

"I thought you would be in astrometrics, Commander," Captain Hernandez said.

"The computer is processing the data gathered earlier. It will take 17.2 minutes and I decided to take advantage of the delay to check on Commander Tucker's status."

"I've got to head down this hall and back to sickbay... Doctor's orders," Trip said. "Want to come with?"

Trip saw T'Pol turn to the Captain. "You're welcome to tag along, Commander," the Captain replied to the unasked question.

Trip struggled back a huge smile as he walked the hall with Captain Hernandez on his left and T'Pol on his right. The Captain wasn't stupid and he wondered how much she pieced together. It was possible she wanted T'Pol along just to spy. Hopefully he wouldn't do anything stupid to give himself away.

The three of them slowly made their way back to sickbay and Trip returned to his bed and sat down. The doctor told him to unzip the uniform and he hesitated for a moment.

"Come along Commander," the Captain said. "Let's give Mr. Tucker some privacy."

Trip suppressed a chuckle as the Captain winked at him before turning her back and leading T'Pol out of the room.

The doctor growled and had a scowl on his face as he ran the medical scanner over Trip. "I was hoping to return to you Doctor Phlox in better condition... I was hoping for better progress but I guess being in stasis four days weakened you more than I thought it would." The doctor put his arm on Trip's left shoulder. "It'll be up to Phlox how long you'll be on light duty."

Trip yawned and scratched the back of his head. The bump from where the Vulcan's clocked him itched, even though it was tender. He had to be careful over it. He couldn't scratch too hard since it was pretty sore.

The doctor guided Trip back down, even though he could have done it by himself, and left him to stare up at the ceiling until exhaustion overtook him again.

Trip sat in the Captain's mess the next evening after _Columbia_ docked with _Enterprise_. T'Pol sat across from him while the Captains sat to his left and right. The air was thick with tension as they tried to avoid the only topic any of them, save possibly T'Pol, was concerned with. Captain Hernandez seemed out of the loop but he wasn't sure how much Archer knew. He really wanted to just talk about everything and get it off his chest.

Trip's mouth started watering and he completely ignored the tension when his meal was placed in front of him. It was a large steak, what looked like collard and mustard greens and a spinach salad. He cut off a piece of meat, moved it to his mouth and started blissfully chewing the perfectly prepared delight. He had barely swallowed it before turning to Captain Hernandez and saying, "this is good." He decided to follow it with a fork load of the cooked greens.

"I asked Commander T'Pol to select your meal from the doctor's recommendation... I assumed she knew what you liked best."

Trip was kind of surprised T'Pol selected the large steak. It was one of his favorites, but she never seemed to approve of either he or the Captain eating them in her presence.

T'Pol set her fork down after taking a bite of her large fruit salad and raised her eyes. "The doctor indicated red meat would be vital to overcome the resulting anemia from the synthetic blood. I believe you have expressed a preference for porterhouse steaks."

Trip nodded as he shoveled some spinach salad into his mouth. The texture was softer than normal and he wondered if the chef wilted the spinach leaves before chopping them. Either way, the food was excellent and he returned his attention to the large steak in front of him.

"So Commander, what do you think of _Columbia_'s science labs?" Trip only marginally paid attention to Captain Hernandez's question.

"They are more extensive than those aboard _Enterprise_."

"The two ships have the same hull and engines but we weren't built for first contact situations. _Columbia_ is geared toward scientific research." Trip saw Captain Hernandez stop talking long enough to strip the meat off another rib bone. She hardly looked the part of a starship Captain with the barbeque sauce stuck to her cheek. Trip pointed to his own and she caught his intention. "Thanks Trip," she said as she wiped it away.

"What do you think about a transfer, T'Pol?" Hernandez asked before grinning at Archer's reaction.

"Hey, you've tried to take my chief engineer and now my first officer?" Archer groaned in what Trip thought was a mock protest. Both had a pretty good idea T'Pol would not willingly leave _Enterprise_.

"Well, we'd be more interesting for her... more of a challenge." Trip saw Captain Hernandez wipe her mouth again with the napkin. "Who knows, maybe I'll convince both of them to stay? Commander Tucker might even stay more than a couple weeks this time?" She said and winked at Trip.

The look on her face caught Trip by surprised and he accidentally inhaled a small piece of meat. He started choking and Jon moved to Trip's side. Before he could tell him he was okay, the Captain slapped Trip on the back, seeming to forget about his injury. Trip winced in pain and started coughing again.

"Captain, I do not believe that is helpful," T'Pol stated in a voice Trip thought probably a bit more forcefull than she intended.

"Oh shit, you're right," Jon said behind him.

Trip raised his hand. He choked out, "I'm okay... just went down the wrong pipe." He picked up the napkin to wipe the tears from his eyes as he caught his breath. Glancing up as he leaned over the table, he caught T'Pol glaring at the Captain as he took his seat. Trip pressed his lips together and forced back his grin. He wondered if T'Pol picked up on Captain Hernandez's implication and directed her ire to Archer so as to hide her response.

Of course it was possible she was just annoyed at Jon's innocent, albeit boneheaded, attempt to help.

* * *

Valdore was furious when he read Terix's report. The Humans must have been the ones to snatch the Coridanite. A Starfleet warship approached at high Warp as they were moving the processing facility. There was no time to extract the whole facility and they could only move the personnel and ore in time. They had to leave all of the equipment behind.

The only good news to come from it was Terix's split second decision to clean only the staff quarters. The areas where the Vulcans were kept was left as is. It was an excellent plan and Terix applied it when taking care of Tortosa as well. Vulcan explosives and assault weapons were used to tie up any loose ends that might remain.

They suffered a major setback with the discovery of the drug smuggling operation. However all evidence now pointed to the Vulcans themselves. Valdore hoped that meant no one, not even the Humans, would assist the Vulcans any further in their attempts to stop it.

The original plan was still sound but its implementation would have to wait some time until they were ready. With the Vulcans most likely aware of the drug and its potential threat, getting it to Vulcan itself would now prove challenging. Fortunately Vulcan's arrogant, superiority complex should work in his favor. If he was patient, he knew they would still throw all of Vulcan into chaos and isolate them from the others.

* * *

Trip took his seat at the small briefing table in the conference table. T'Pol was already seated and only briefly acknowledged his arrival. Malcolm walked through the doors right behind Trip, so her response was understandable. Even though they spent most nights together, they could not officially be a couple and decided they would not put their friends in a situation where they were forced to chose between duty and friendship. The three of them sat around waiting for Captain Archer despite the fact he called them here.

Trip winced as he tried to take a deep breath. He still wore the wrap around his chest and although it expanded as needed, it did provide resistance to his breathing. Given that his punctured lung was still healing, he didn't really need anything that made it even harder to breathe.

"How are you feeling Mr. Tucker," Trip heard Malcolm ask from behind him.

Trip figured at least they could chitchat while waiting for the Captain and turned toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed T'Pol also turned toward Malcolm.

"It still hurts a bit and I get tired pretty easily," Trip said with a self-deprecating grin.

"That is to be expected. You are recovering from a punctured lung and significant blood loss," T'Pol add. Trip smiled at her need to remind them of patently obvious facts.

Before they could continue, Archer briskly walked through the door and sat down next to Trip. Archer immediately turned to him with a concerned look on his face and put an arm on his shoulder. "How are you feeling Trip?"

Trip chuckled and Archer's expression turned to one of confusion. "Did I say something funny?"

"I asked the Commander the exact same question," Malcolm responded. "He just finished answering when you arrived."

Archer chuckled himself. "Phlox reminded me again this morning you're still on light duty." Trip nodded. Phlox made the same point in person while he and T'Pol ate breakfast. He found it hard to believe she invited the doctor to sit and eat with them out of simple curiosity. She began pestering the doctor with questions regarding Trip's recovery soon after he took his seat.

T'Pol had already decided to take it upon herself to periodically make sure he spent no more time in engineering than Phlox had approved. Hess was starting to tease him about his "Vulcan mother hen". Trip did not find that particularly funny but most of his engineering crew did.

Archer slapped his hands on the table. "Okay, I just wanted to bring everyone up to speed after getting briefed by Starfleet Intelligence... And after that, you're off for the day Trip."

"But Captain..." Trip objected. He was already bored out of his mind only being allowed on duty for six hours and restricted from any strenuous tasks. He had no idea what he'd do today just sitting in his quarters.

Archer raised his hand to interrupt. "It's not up for discussion, Trip. Hess told me this morning everything's running smooth and were cruising at Warp 3.5... I'm not changing my mind, it's settled."

Trip slumped his shoulders. And not just because he knew on some level the Captain was right. They didn't need him right now. That was probably more frustrating for him.

"Starfleet says the trail's gone cold. Not only can't they find the Vulcans or the Trellium ore, but they can't even go back to their previous information sources... They've either disappeared... or been killed. It's as if whoever's running the show went to ground and decided to eliminate everything that could be traced back to them."

Trip felt a sharp pain in temple and tried to wrap his head around what Archer just said. He was no expert on normal Vulcans, let alone a set addicted to some refined version of Trellium, but he just couldn't believe what Archer was telling him. In the first place, Vulcans just didn't seem capable of running a drug smuggling organization but the thought they would cover their tracks by "liquidating" their contacts was unfathomable. None of Starfleet Intelligence's reports on this supposed rogue Vulcan operation made any sense to him.

"The strangest case is what the _Rutland_ found when they entered orbit above Tortosa," the Captain continued. Trip's attention perked up. He was pretty sure T'Pol's attention became more acute. "You know almost the whole area was razed. Several buildings and support structures were leveled. One of the few left standing was the... market... where your meet took place. Inside was a complete mess, with bodies littered everywhere... They counted over 50 dead of various races, some of which neither Starfleet nor the Vulcans recognize. It was like they just came in shooting and killed anyone in weapons range."

Trip watched as Archer focused his attention on T'Pol. She straightened her spine and returned his focus. "The explosives and weapons signatures indicated they were... Vulcan." Archer paused for a moment and Trip wasn't quite sure T'Pol's reaction. There was one but it confused Trip. "It does look like Starfleet's information about the market wasn't accurate. Nine Andorian females were among the dead. Based on T'Pol's report, it appears only the Orion's were being sold. The Andorians' role seemed to be waitresses and explains their continued presence at the bar after the auction concluded."

"Captain, I also believe the Andorians' were used for prostitution... Commander Tucker was propositioned twice," T'Pol added. Trip was certain his face and neck turned red. He really didn't want that getting out. He doubted Jon and Malcolm would drop it and harass him the first chance they got. He scowled at T'Pol to let her know he was not amused. She simply raised an eyebrow. "It was part of my report, Commander."

Archer chuckled. "I was aware of that part of your report T'Pol, but I didn't see the need to bring it up."

A few moments later Trip noticed they all sat around waiting for the Captain to continue, but he sat silently with a look on his face that Trip recognized. It meant something baffled Archer and he was turning around all sorts of ideas in an attempt to make sense of it. Trip knew from experience it was best just to let Jon continue to chew on whatever was bothering him. He would talk when he was ready.

"Captain?" T'Pol finally interjected.

Archer jerked slightly as if her query startled him. "Sorry, just thinking... Something doesn't make any sense." Trip watched as Jon's hand moved to scratch his beard. "We know Orion women are in charge, yet they sell themselves in slave auctions... Why? I can think of only one reason."

"Piracy," T'Pol responded. "I have been thinking along those same lines." T'Pol briefly caught Trip's eye and then looked away. "I had considerable time to work on my report and meditate on the experience... before returning to _Enterprise_. I could not understand why Orion women, who are in control, would allow themselves to be sold to the highest bidder. It appears this practice has gone on for some time, so I assumed it was logical for a reason not immediately obvious."

That just dawned on Trip too. He furrowed his brow as he struggled with the paradox. Piracy would explain why Orion females were in control and yet apparently sold themselves into slavery. The buyers probably had no idea what they were paying for.

"I believe the basic tactic is to get one or more Orion females aboard a ship with the intent to disable it in order to enslave the crew and steal both the ship and whatever cargo is aboard. Buyers with sufficient resources to win the auction would be prime targets."

Archer nodded. "That's what I'm thinking too."

Trip scratched his head and turned his attention to T'Pol. "You know, that makes sense... It might also explain why the intelligence reports about the Andorians conflict with what we saw."

"How so?" T'Pol asked him.

Trip pulled his chair closer to the table and leaned into T'Pol. "You remember what he said about Kholas?" Again T'Pol raised her eyebrow and Trip gave an exasperated sigh.

"Kholas, Trip?" Malcolm said with a smirk.

Trip decided to ignore him. Of course that wouldn't prevent Malcolm from pestering him later. "He said I couldn't afford her. To me, that means at least he would've considered a sale... They also couldn't be used for piracy, as far as we know... So what if... you know... Andorians are only for real sales... where the price is high enough to make a good profit?"

"That is... interesting speculation... Commander," Malcolm chimed in, "but hardly productive. We should focus on the drug refining operation instead. That threat still confronts the Vulcans. It appears they took care of that particular piracy ring quite effectively and is no longer a concern."

Trip saw T'Pol fold her hands on the table in front of her. "I have considered the information that Captain Archer relayed to us... It seems inconsistent with the operation we encountered. That team went to great lengths to mask their true identity. I find it difficult to believe they would leave any evidence behind that could implicate Vulcan. When I was in the Ministry of Security we were trained not to leave any evidence that could be traced back to us."

"What if the Vulcans wanted to make sure the pirates knew who did it?" Archer asked.

"That is not the Vulcan way. Additionally there would be little point in leaving behind the evidence for Starfleet to find. Regardless I suspect the destruction of the market will do little to affect their operation... I assume the Orion females will simply move elsewhere and begin again. The logical conclusion is the market was simply a front for an organization backed by Orion Marauder ships."

Trip noticed the room became quiet as no one spoke. He wondered if the others were considering the same information. It appeared the Vulcans, or whoever tried to implicate them, basically accomplished nothing but death and destruction.

A short while later, "on that happy note, we are adjourned," Archer replied. "No sense dwelling on something we can't change... Malcolm, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room."

"Aye sir," Malcolm replied and left.

Jon didn't say a thing to either Trip or T'Pol before his exit.

Trip left and began to walk toward the turbo lift. He noticed T'Pol remained by his side in silence.

Upon entering the lift, Trip winced again as he took a deep breath. At this point he just wanted to put this experience behind him and move on. It was a result of an honest mistake but still he was angry with the Vulcans who just about killed him while he was risking how own neck trying to slow down a drug that really only posed a risk to Vulcans. He didn't agree with T'Pol they had much chance of stopping the drug and felt she was too naive. If there were a demand for something, then there would always be someone willing to sell it. That seemed to be true across the galaxy.

Trip moved a little closer to T'Pol until he was just barely touching her. She didn't back away to put any distance between them. "So why aren't you on the bridge?"

Without moving a fraction T'Pol replied, "it is my regularly scheduled day off."

"Hmm," Trip replied. "I keep forgetting it's Friday. It feels like Sunday."

"That is understandable. You were unconscious more than five days, Trip." The lift stopped and the doors opened and both exited down the same hallway. Soon he arrived at his door with T'Pol in tow. Neither spoke a word since leaving the conference room. "Coming in?" he asked with a smirk.

"Obviously," she responded with just a hint of sarcasm.

As soon as the door closed he moved quickly to pull her into his arms and rest his forehead against hers. "So how much of this is your doing? I can't believe it's a coincidence this is your day off."

Trip smiled when she did not respond immediately.

"I believe Doctor Phlox spoke to the Captain after breakfast. I simply reminded the doctor that with little pressing need, your health would be best served resting today than working, even if it were only light duty."

Trip thought back to breakfast. He tried to figure out how she and Phlox had that discussion without him. "When?"

"During breakfast... I asked you to refill my tea." Trip laughed. It suddenly dawned on him she never asked him to refill her mug prior to this morning. She took advantage of his natural reaction in order to remove him from the table so she and Phlox could speak privately.

He hugged her tight. "Thanks." He arched his back slightly but made sure they remained in contact at the waist. "So..."

T'Pol gently pushed away from him. "I need to use your bathroom." She turned and moved away from him.

Trip moved to watch the stars stream by while he waited. Even now the stars streaking by while traveling at Warp fascinated him. They stretched out in little rainbow streaks of color. He heard the door to his bathroom open just before T'Pol's reflection appeared in the portal. He turned at the waist before moving completely around when he saw what she was now wearing.

She exchanged her regulation Starfleet uniform for an entirely different garment.

It was the exact same outfit she wore on their mission. It was tight enough Trip assumed she wore it underneath her uniform. That meant she must have hatched her plan before joining him for breakfast that morning.

He swallowed hard when she insinuated herself between him and the ship's hull. She peered through the very same portal he had moments before.

On the other hand, Trip was now transfixed by the sight of her bare back and shoulders. He felt his palms get a little moist.

Even though technically T'Pol was fully clothed, really she was not. When they were alone together, this was not an uncommon situation. He thought about how she was an interesting study in contrasts. She had the most exquisite body he could imagine and making love to her was incredible. But he always found her sexiest when she dressed in a way to entice him instead of fully nude. He first noticed that with the pale blue silk pajamas small and tight enough to hide everything–mostly–but still present just enough flesh to hint at what lie underneath. She looked so good in them it was almost a shame she had to take them off when they had sex.

He found the same thing with her Starfleet uniform shortly after she started wearing it. He couldn't imagine anyone making that sexy, but T'Pol pulled it off. Frequently she'd forego the undershirt and simply wore only a sports bra underneath. As long as she kept the uniform fully zipped, per Starfleet regulations but rarely enforced, no one knew. But if they were alone, sometimes she would unzip it down to her navel. Just the brief glimpse of skin was sometimes enough to distract him until he forced himself to focus on some complex task requiring his full attention.

He slowly rubbed his hands along her back before pulling her close. She intertwined her fingers with his as he held her around the waist and pressed his lips to her neck. As Trip planted little kisses on his way up to her left ear, he could hear that low rumbling, purring sound she sometimes made. Being in such close contact with her body, he could feel the sound reverberate as much as he could hear it.

Her body shuddered and she ground her hips against his when he ran his tongue along the shell of her left ear.

"Trip," she whispered. "Yeah," he breathed his answer into her ear. She twisted in his arms and put her hands on his chest. He leaned in again and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

"We can't," she continued in a huskier voice than normal. Trip smiled. "The doctor was clear that you need to rest today... You are not to perform any strenuous activity."

Trip's smile turned to a scowl. She was right. It was already becoming difficult to breathe properly and he was feeling a little woozy. He wondered how much of that was the competition for his current blood supply.

He took a deep breath and released it before a wicked thought popped in his head. T'Pol returned his smirk with a simple raise of her eyebrow. He moved his hands to her hips and spun her around so her back was against him once again. She offered no resistance as he directed her with his hands.

Trip leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Phlox didn't say I couldn't grope you."

He felt her meekly try to pull away but without enough force to escape his grasp and he pressed his body into hers once again. He smiled and kept his face close to her left ear so she could feel every breath he took.

"He also never said you could," she whispered. "Perhaps we should contact the doctor for clarification?" she teased.

He smiled and put a slight distance between them. Just enough so he could lean down. "Maybe you're right," he said just before he planted a feather light kiss on her shoulder. And another. He moved from side to side closing in on his eventual target. He kept lightly caressing her shoulders with his lips until finally reaching her spine. He felt another shudder.

"You may grope me," T'Pol attempted to phrase her agreement as a command. She couldn't really pull it off in her current state. Trip grinned to himself in response to her hoarse whisper. "But only... for a short while", her voice cracked slightly, "and then you must promise to go to bed."

He pulled her waist tight against him. T'Pol began to slowly grind against his groin. "Agreed," he replied with his best imitation of her he could muster given the situation. "Why didn't you wear the collar too," he asked while directing his affection to the opposite side of her neck and right earlobe.

"It would have only been in the way," she replied. He smiled and agreed. _It would have_.

Along those same lines, while fascinated by the texture of the fabric making up her skin tight halter, Trip felt it too really just got in the way as he moved his hands over her chest and flat stomach. He moved his lips to the clasp and released the catch around her neck, letting the material to flutter downward. "That's better," he whispered in her right ear. Trip heard her purr in agreement.

T'Pol gasped when he moved to cup her with his hands. His tongue returned to that area behind her ear and just below her hairline that always made her quiver.

They spent what Trip thought was an entirely too short time grinding against each other while he used his finger tips, lips and tongue to caress and stimulate most of her favorite places until T'Pol pushed him away to catch her breath. She stood topless facing him a few short centimeters away–her face and neck obviously flush.

He knew if they went much farther, they risked doing something that most likely would require the doctor's intervention and a humiliating lecture on the definition of "no strenuous activity".

In order to at least try to keep things under control, he had been careful to avoid the very tips of her ears and that one little place at the top of her spine just below the hairline. He knew from experience it took very little stimulation there before they passed the point of no return.

"Now you must rest," T'Pol told him. Of course she was still topless so it was kind of a surreal scene. His brain still maintained a modicum of control and it agreed with her. He relented and began to take his uniform off. He put the boots under his desk and hung his coveralls on the hook by his door.

"Want to stay?" he asked as he playfully leered at her. _Although if she did, he wasn't sure how much rest he'd get_.

She seemed to consider his request for a while before nodding. "I can review Starfleet's report while you sleep."

Trip was a little surprised when she bent over and pushed the pants down her legs. The stretchy material bunched at her feet before she stepped out of them and folded them over his chair. Apparently she recognized the look of shock on his face when she straightened back up to face him, now fully nude. "They are uncomfortable to wear... I assume you do not object."

Trip snorted a little chuckle. _He did not object in the least_.

She picked up a PADD from the desk before he followed her to his bed.

Still kind of in a dazzled fog, Trip crawled under the covers just after she did and snuggled up to her. Again she surprised him by setting the PADD on the shelf behind his head and leaned her head on his chest. "I'll wait until after you fall asleep."

Trip lazily traced his hand up and down her back. There were few times he could recall being more grateful to be back on _Enterprise_. The two of them just lay there quietly, barely moving a muscle for some time. He certainly over estimated the progress of his recovery and soon felt his eyelids grow heavy as he fought back a yawn. It was a battle he knew he couldn't win. Eventually he gave up and drifted off to sleep.

The End

* * *

Epilogue:

Trip took a long swig of Starmist from the flagon in his left hand while palming the pair of Tongo dice in his right. He sat relaxed and enjoyed the sights overlooking the main floor. After weeks of working for Turot and gathering information, he knew not to be impatient.

For the uninitiated, Turot seemed the epitome of decadence. The perfect example was that right now, both he and T'Pol were forced delay their business as a Dabo girl gently ran the tips of her fingers along his prominent brow ridges. Turot alternated between sipping at his disgusting smelling drink that looked like liquefied pond scum and making these little hissing and moaning sounds. To those who didn't know any better, Turot was nothing more than someone who ran the only casino along this trade route and raked in the money from the Dabo and Tongo tables below.

The reality was Turot had his fingers in everything that happened along this trade route. If you wanted to do business in this sector, you had to make sure Turot got his slice of the pie. Or, more correctly, his bars of gold-pressed latinum.

Trip still couldn't figure out why these Ferengi–T'Pol used that name but they never used it themselves–didn't have some sort of computerized credit system. By all accounts they possessed enough technology to set up and run such a system. But they seemed to have a fascination with having actual hard currency they could touch and feel. They also refused to use paper or some other script. For some reason, their currency had to possess an intrinsic worth. Their whole society and many of those they traded with seemed focused on accumulating this currency. They even developed a whole system of rules around it and spoke in terms of right and wrong.

Trip was stilled baffled by their so called "Rules of Acquisition." It seemed outright stealing was looked down upon but cheating someone out of their money was a sign of good business sense. Even if he worked for Turot ten years, he doubted he could fully understand this culture.

Just as Trip took another draw from his mug, the Dabo girl who had stood behind Turot made her way to the stairs and returned to the gambling tables. When he first arrived at this place, both he and T'Pol naturally assumed the Dabo girls were high-class prostitutes. They were all well dressed and clung to the patrons, especially the high rollers. After spending more than three months moving from one cesspool to another in their data-gathering mission, it was easy to become jaded. Outside the few well-traveled shipping lanes and spaceports, the galaxy teemed with outposts observing no law where just about anything could be bought and sold. It turned out the Dabo girls' role was to distract the gamblers and force them to make mistakes, causing them to lose to the house. While prostitution did occur, it appeared completely at the girls' discretion and the deals were worked out individually.

Of course Turot got a cut of that too.

Their search for the Trellium H processing facility led them into this sector of space. They were well out of Starfleet's reach and, as near as they could tell, the Vulcans must not have ventured into this area either. Neither Humans nor Vulcans were recognized and some assumed he and T'Pol were the same species. He recognized the Ferengi only from their brief encounter years ago. The search kind of stalled when they arrived in this system and they decided befriending Turot was most likely their only hope of moving forward. He summoned Trip today with a new business opportunity. He said it would pay well, although take some time. They held out some hope Turot might finally trust Trip well enough to employ him as a smuggler.

"I have an opportunity for you Tah-rip," Turot said before pushing a recording device toward him. "The compensation is very fair," which Trip took to mean Turot was only minimally cheating him, "although the effort is large."

Trip looked at the device. It appeared to be the standard terms and conditions for the contract. He handed it to T'Pol.

Turot shook his head and grunted a couple of times. "You will never become a great businessman if you rely on your female to approve the contract!" Trip smiled and chuckled at his reaction. Having T'Pol review the contract always drove Turot nuts. To be honest, Trip had T'Pol read over the contracts just to annoy him. "Bah! What should I expect! Your species clothes your females," Trip smiled as Turot waived his arms, shook his head, laughed and took another drink of his pond scum. "Look at what she's wearing... I'll bet it cost you well over a bar."

Trip shrugged and pretended he paid for it. He let his eyes linger along T'Pol's frame and admired how she looked. Even though these had been her primary clothes while they were off the ship, he still enjoyed them. That was especially true given the level of protection they afforded T'Pol. A metallic fabric bodice shaped her form while leaving her shoulders and arms exposed. In reality, it was body armor that provided significant protection to a Vulcan's vital organs. Once they were farther out, they didn't see the need for her posing as slave, so they removed the Orion controller. She maintained the collar to house the passive sensor array, but the new one gave the appearance more of a decoration than the prior one. It was taller and black but had a large oval stone set in a platinum mount at the base of her throat.

The combination of the decorative collar, bodice and tight black pants made her look... powerfull... and sexy at the same time.

Best of all, Trip felt reassured that between her armored bodice and the enhanced kevlar middle layer of her pants, T'Pol was safe from most blade and energy weapons. Normally fatal attacks could be deflected and result in only minor injury. As their cover prevented her from being armed, it had been a significant cause of concern for him since their first mission. She wouldn't admit it, but he was pretty sure it had been a concern for her too.

"I think the investment's worth it... She's normally the only one I've got to look at and I deserve the luxury," Trip said and rubbed his hand along her upper thigh from behind while Turot gave him a disgruntled look. T'Pol didn't react in the least and continued studying the contract.

She handed the contract back to Trip and nodded. "You've got a deal," Trip replied as he signed it and pushed it back to Turot.

"I'm uploading everything now... finished," Turot said.

"It's a pleasure doing business," Trip said as he stood up and left two slips of currency on the table. He smiled as out of the corner of his eye he saw Turot quickly reach across and grab it.

Trip momentarily wondered what it would be like to finally return to Starfleet when their role in this mission was finished. There had been so many tense moments, so many changes and so many lies over these past months, his time as chief engineer on _Enterprise_ seemed a lifetime ago. How hard would the readjustment to regulations be? Out here there weren't any regulations. They did what needed to be done–and what they could live with.

Soon they arrived at the transporter pad, T'Pol punched in the access code and they emerged back aboard their transport. Both moved toward lockers where they stowed their gear.

"Do you think this is it?" Trip asked as he removed his over cloak.

"It appears so," T'Pol said as she sat and studied the details of their "job" while removing her collar and connecting its computer input. "The containers are listed as biohazard and the drop off point is less than three weeks from Vulcan. The specifics are very different than any previous transport job."

Trip reached under his right arm and released the fasteners holding his protective vest in place.

"I need your assistance," T'Pol reminded him while he pulled his undershirt over his head. The vest didn't breathe well so his shirt always got damp after more than an hour or so.

He moved over to T'Pol and she turned her back to him. He reached along the back of the bodice and unfastened it so she could take it off. Once she set it on the bench, he picked it up and placed it on the shelf. Unlike his protective vest, her bodice was stiff and held its shape even without her in it.

Trip moved back to the front of the transport and set the auto navigation system before turning his chair to face the rear of the ship. He watched T'Pol remove her protective pants by releasing the fasteners along the outside of her hips and stepping out of them. The small briefs she wore underneath soon followed and were discarded on the floor.

For a brief moment, she stood facing away from him wearing nothing but the skin-tight, purple bustier she used to keep the body armor from chaffing and irritating her skin. Trip swallowed hard when she bent over at the waist to pick up her more comfortable pajama bottoms before stepping into them.

T'Pol turned to face him and moved toward the front of the ship. He smiled at how amazing she looked in her quarter-cup bustier and the low riding silk pajama bottoms she'd preferred. "We're underway," Trip said as she continued walking directly toward him. "We should arrive at the pick up coordinates tomorrow night."

"Good," she replied as she drew closer.

When she was less than a meter away, Trip swallowed hard again. He relaxed in his chair, as she kept moving toward him until finally crawling in his lap. They immediately started kissing and soon did battle with their tongues as Trip felt her nipples graze across his bare chest. She ground against him until they were forced to come up for air. She leaned her forehead against his. He continued to move his hand slowly, gently up and down her spine.

"Starfleet's going to want an answer Trip... We need to discuss it."

He knew she didn't mean that as a downer, but it kind of ruined the mood all the same.

"I know," he replied. And he agreed. Starfleet Intelligence wanted them to stay out here working for Turot and gathering information. Starfleet said they would figure out some other way to stop the Trellium shipments that didn't involve blowing their cover. Trip and T'Pol had already gathered considerable information about unknown trade routes and potential allies–or potential adversaries. Starfleet felt it prudent they continue.

T'Pol gave a brief sigh. "It is your decision... I will go where you go... I prepared for a career in covert ops, you did not. If you wish to return to _Enterprise_, then we will return. If you wish to continue this mission, we will continue this mission."

That was the crux of the problem for Trip. He had a pretty good feeling T'Pol wanted to continue this mission. He wanted her to be happy. On the other hand, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go on like this. Spending every moment with T'Pol was great. Always living a lie, worrying it all might come crashing down and not seeing any of his friends was not. Up to this point he had focused on how important the mission was by reminding himself the danger posed by Trellium H. It was motivation enough to go on and face the risks. Could he do this on an open-ended mission with no goal other than to gather information? More and more he realized the most likely answer was no.

T'Pol moved her right hand to the side of his face as he sat there quietly looking into her eyes. She caressed his cheek as he tried to figure out a way to tell her his home would most likely always be on _Enterprise_. He couldn't do this for much longer.

T'Pol leaned back away from him, rested most of her weight on his thighs and moved her hands to his chest. "Trip, if you want to return, say so... There is nothing wrong with wishing a return to our lives aboard _Enterprise_.

Trip nodded. "I want to go home." He hoped she wouldn't be disappointed.

"I will inform Starfleet we will return to _Enterprise_," T'Pol said as she leaned closer. "Tomorrow," she whispered as she pressed her body against him so they were nose-to-nose, face-to-face.

Trip knew exactly what to expect. They had done this many times over the preceding weeks. A warm tingly sensation washed over his body as she brought her hand up to the side of his face. "My mind to your mind..." T'Pol chanted as she initiated this most intimate act.

Neither had any way of knowing six months in the future their decision would be of little consequence as the Earth-Romulan War would be declared and every Starfleet resource would be focused on defending Earth.


End file.
